


Succession Plan

by ChrisReynolds



Category: Mutant Chronicles (Roleplaying Game), Warzone - Fandom
Genre: Dieselpunk, Gen, Intrigue, Samurai, Science Fiction, Swordfighting, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8335378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisReynolds/pseuds/ChrisReynolds
Summary: This is one of a series of stories developed for Cartel Tactical Centre, a fan-produced e-zine for Mutant Chronicles/Warzone.If you like my work, I write on far more than just this topic. Please consider joining my mailing list here: http://eepurl.com/cjE8RfAnd/or my Facebook page here: https://www.facebook.com/ChrisreynoldsauthorCartel Tactical Centre can be found here: https://www.facebook.com/CTCMagazine/





	1. Chapter 1

一番：澤田俊雄

  1. Toshio Sawada



Toshio narrowed his eyes. His opponent was smirking.

His own blade was held close, upright, by his right shoulder, ready to deliver a downward blow. It was a soldier’s stance, tense and compact. His opponent held his blade down in a lower front position, but with his shoulders rolled forward. Unusually, he led with his left foot.

Toshio shifted his weight slightly and swept his front foot to the left. Their eyes remained locked, each daring the other to go first. His opponent was the one to move, thrusting his blade forward with a Tsuki-stroke. Toshio flicked the other blade away, but quickly aborted his counterstroke when he saw the other samurai’s stance. It was a feint.

The other samurai recovered quickly and the two went back to their standoff.

Toshio saw his feet pull back, and he hopped forward to occupy the space that had just been vacated. He only realised after he had committed to the move that the retreat was another feint.

His opponent drew his sword from the lower position to an upper one in the blink of an eye, aiming for a powerful overhead cut. Toshio already knew that he couldn’t pull back in time, so he went forward, dodging to the left out of the line of the cut. He threw his hands high, with the point of his sword downward, deflecting the other’s blade. He didn’t pause, rolling around the movement to aim for a diagonal Naname-cut, aiming the blade for the back of his opponent’s neck. 

His blade cleaved empty air, and so he sprang backwards to avoid the inevitable counter-stroke. He felt the approaching blade and leaned further back. His own sword darted through the lower rear position and he stepped forward again, closing to attack with a rising Asa-cut. He found his opponent a little off balance and Toshio’s blade caught him on the elbow. The man leapt backwards, opening the space between them once more.

‘Impressive, eldest brother,’ said his opponent, ‘I suppose that I shall only use one arm now?’

Toshio grinned.

‘Mifune, even you cannot talk away a wound. I have won.’

His brother straitened and returned the smile. They both stood and returned their blunt training blades to their sheaths. Keeping their eyes locked, they both bowed- formal, precise, and equally deep. Even in formalities they would compete.

Both Samurai wore their training attire, a simple shirt and pleated Hakama pants, with a wide belt to hold their scabbards. Within their father’s home, it would not do well to engage in a showy display of wealth or power by dressing in their usual, formal attire.

Toshio had just bent to gather his towel and kimono jacket when he noticed his brother Yukito enter the room, dressed similarly in drab training attire.

Yukito walked into the middle of the room and stood silently for a moment. He bowed, stiffly, deeply, to nobody in particular, and placed his left hand on his sword hilt. It was at that moment that Toshio realised that he had his swords mounted on the wrong side.

Yukito drew the blade, sweeping his Katana in a tight, slow Obi-cut to his left. He followed his sword, almost as though he had his free right hand on the flat back of the blade to guide it. He stepped slowly, deliberately, as he turned the Obi into an Asa, turning and rising until his hands were fully outstretched.

He spun, in slow motion, as though he were airborne, his sword rising above his head to deliver an overhead cut. The cut ended and he sprang forward, a long, low Tsuki thrust into thin air. He pivoted and delivered three cuts- middle, left and right, skipping forward with each stroke. Continuing in the same direction, he dropped to one knee and bent forward, delivering a sweeping flat Obi-strike as he spun on the ball of one foot. He did not pause, the pivot carrying him back to his feet as the blade travelled smoothly back into its scabbard.

He was standing precisely where he had started, facing the same direction. Toshio paused to watch as his brother repeated the kata, this time at speed. Mifune walked over and stood next to him.

‘The famous sword techniques of …where is it you’ve been studying, Yukito?’

Yukito continued his routine, as though oblivious. He repeated the kata a third time, a fourth. He appeared unhurried, but his blade disappeared in a blur of high-speed motion.

Mifune stepped in front of Yukito, interrupting his practice. Yukito froze, pulling his blade up short, and locked an impassive stare onto Mifune’s face for a moment. He then stood and stretched out his arm to point his sword at the ground, before he swept the weapon back into its scabbard in one smooth motion, his eyes never leaving Mifune’s.

He spoke in a quiet voice.

‘Is there something I can help you with, brother?’

Mifune burst out laughing.

‘I would like to duel with our best swordsman. However, I will settle for sparring with you!’

Yukito looked down. Mifune was still wearing his sword, and held the scabbard forward with his left hand. His right rested casually on the hilt, ready to draw. Yukito’s eyes flicked up, locking stares with Mifune once more. His hands were by his sides. He shrugged, almost imperceptibly.

‘Very well. When shall we begin?’

Mifune’s grin spread. He had almost finished saying ‘right now’ when Yukito’s blade had leapt out of its scabbard and was positioned at his throat. He staggered back and whipped his own sword into a guard, but the result was never in doubt. Yukito’s expression hadn’t changed.

Toshio laughed quietly at the spectacle. Mifune looked stung.

‘Come now, Mifune, I think Yukito needs more training. You nearly got away that time!’

Mifune re-sheathed his blade and stood. Yukito was standing frozen, only his gaze moving to track his humiliated brother, eyes half-hidden behind his wild hair. Mifune gave a perfunctory bow and stepped away. Yukito answered the bow with a nod.

As Toshio walked from the room, Yukito had re-started his kata, moving slowly again. It was as though someone had rewound time to before Mifune’s interruption.

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

Toshio had to force himself not to pull at the armour. It was entirely the wrong shape, having been built for an ancestor many hundred years past. It would not be appropriate for him to show his discomfort, however, particularly in front of others.

He was seated on his battered campaign camp stool in the middle of the room. The room afforded him at the family estate was spacious, with soft, high-quality tatami mats on the floor and a smooth wooden floor at the entrance. Gilded sculptures stood in some corners, placed according to the teachings of Marama, Sage of Harmony. The paper screens on the walls were painted in a delicate mural of waves.

He shifted slightly in his seat. It was too much.

‘Katsuo, why is it that I am such a poor samurai?’

Katsuo’s face transformed into a puzzled grin.

‘Lord, I have stood by your side too long to fall into such a trap. The question is loaded.’

Toshio gave his retainer a nod of acknowledgement.

‘Even so. A true warrior must know and appreciate beauty. Here I stand, in fine beauty, and yet I feel nothing but distaste for it.’

Katsuo was silent for a moment. He looked at the floor in contemplation.

‘Yizo says that beauty is a gust, a raindrop, a snowflake. Perhaps the beauty you have seen has already passed. Perhaps you now see something else in its place, and you feel differently toward that. Perhaps you are merely one to find different things beautiful.’

Toshio stared back impassively. Katsuo looked away from his lord’s eyes to those of the other Samurai there. Jishiro was seated on Toshio’s left, next to the small tree that held the armour.

He took the breastplate and strapped it around Toshio’s torso. It was a beautifully crafted set of armour, built in the ancient tradition of iron and lacquered wood, tied with leather thongs. It would not protect him against modern weapons of any kind, but it did look the part. The armour was painted in hues of dark green, with splashes of blue. The mon of Sawada clan, a golden rice plant in a pool of water, was proudly emblazoned on both shoulders.

‘This is rather different armour than I am used to preparing, lord.’ Jishiro spoke with a smile.

‘Be careful with it, young one,’ said Katsuo, smoothing the corners of his moustache, ‘our lord must look the part.’

Jishiro bowed slightly and returned to carefully tying the leather around one of the shoulderpads. ‘What part is that exactly, Katsuo? Why has Lord Sawada summoned his sons?’

Both retainers looked at Toshio. Toshio sighed.

‘I wish I knew, my loyal samurai,’ he breathed, frowning, ‘my agents report nothing amiss- no illness, no feuds, nothing that seems to need all of us. He is not so old that any such thing might be expected, either. It is hard to know what he has planned, but mine is but to do my lord’s bidding.’

‘Perhaps he wishes use of the Jade Peregrine and our mounts?’

Toshio looked sharply at Jishiro, but then he nodded.

‘This would be an effective way for him to gain access to it. The Lord Heir would not release Meka directly from his armies, but family business he would not deny to such a loyal servant as my father.’

It was Katsuo’s turn to frown.

‘So your three brothers are here just for …what, to cover his motives? I don’t think that Lord Sawada would go so far. He is on very good terms with Lord Tambu still, and that would carry weight to the Lord Heir and his Shadow. Other Meka would be easier to acquire, and less damaging if lost.’

‘Katsuo, I always value your counsel. Be careful, though, there are prying ears within the house.’

‘Even here, lord,’ Jishiro said in surprise, ‘within your own family’s estate?’

‘Of course, Jishiro, where else would our enemies listen to us?’

Jishiro fell silent. The last straps were fastened, and Katsuo handed Toshio his helmet. An attendant of the estate arrived at the door and knelt patiently. Toshio pointed to him, and the man spoke.

‘Lord Sawada sends for his sons.’

Toshio nodded and stood, with a murmur of rattling plates. He turned to his retainers, who rose and smoothed their ceremonial kimonos.

‘It is time to find out.’

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

Each of the brothers entered the room from a separate door. Toshio looked upon the faces of Mifune and Yukito, both also having washed and dressed in armour after their encounter in the dojo. He nodded at Gakuto, who had only just arrived back in Tambu, and was greeted with a thin smile.

There was a large wooden expanse with four stools in the centre of the room, and a raised dais at the other side. There sat Lord Keiji Sawada, patriarch of the household, provider of components to Tambu, one of the Seven Tigers of the Reach. He was dressed in a simple kimono, and looked down appreciatively on his sons.

All four of them paused at their respective doors and bowed deeply towards the dais. Lord Sawada returned a nod, and they approached his dais. Each of them paused in front of their stools and pulled their swords, scabbard and all, from their belts. They each bowed, holding the weapons up to him like an offering, and placed them on the floor in front of their stool. He waved them down, and the brothers sat.

Lord Sawada’s beaming face looked from one to another of his sons.

‘My sons. You are all a credit to the name Sawada. I am impressed by your achievements, and they bring honour to our clan. I have called you all here on a very important matter.’ He rose and began pacing on the dais. His sons watched on, silent.

‘It is said that a lotus does not persist forever. The flower fades, withers and dies, and another will take its place. This is The Way- an ongoing cycle of renewal.

‘It is time that _this_ lotus chooses to stop crowding the pond. I will be abdicating my position and pursuing life as a monk of the sages. One of you will take my place.’

Toshio almost gasped. The four brothers looked at each other. Gakuto and Mifune both had puzzlement writ large upon their faces. Yukito was impassive, and stared at Lord Sawada. Mifune cleared his throat.

‘My lord, who shall it be?’ His tone wavered slightly. Lord Sawada’s smile seemed to broaden, and he resumed his pacing.

‘Four sons, what a gift! All four born on the same day. All four as different as the four winds, the four directions. All of you as similar as the four winds, the four directions.’

He waggled a finger at them.

‘The rules that would normally lay out our path are not clear on this situation. The Way is not defined. Therefore, I have devised a series of tests to determine who is best placed to take this position. Here,’ he gestured to a rack that held four scarlet sashes, ‘I shall award a single sash to the winner of each test. The son with the most sashes by the end will be the new Lord Sawada.’

‘You… want us to compete, my Lord?’ Toshio frowned deeply.

‘Ah, strong Toshio. Have you not competed over everything in your lives? Even at the start, you were the winner- born mere minutes before your brothers! This is a wonderful way to continue the family … _tradition_.’

Toshio nearly winced at the use of the word. Lord Sawada continued.

‘My first contest- who can tell me the story of Manabu Sawada?’

Mifune bowed quickly and started speaking.

‘My Lord, Manabu is our ancestor who reclaimed the Cave of Mists from the darkness. He fought in silence for the whole forty-eight days of the campaign. His final battle saw him slay the Nepharite Sczerabakh with a single blow.’ He stopped, breathless, and looked expectantly at his father. There was a pause before he began to look crestfallen. Toshio inwardly cursed his brother’s improper display of emotion as his father continued.

‘Well done, Mifune. But that is not all. What is his most famous artefact?’

‘My lord, it is his helmet, which deflected Sczerabakh’s blow and allowed him to make the fatal strike.’

Lord Sawada nodded. ‘Just so. Where is that helmet now?’

Gakuto cleared his throat. ‘The Ito clan has stolen it, my lord.’

‘They have. For too long this has been a stain on our honour,’ he re-mounted the dais and resumed his seat, ‘and now we will expunge that stain. The son who brings me the helmet will claim the first sash. Now go.’

The four brothers all bowed automatically. Toshio raised his eyes and looked at his father, who was staring impassively over their heads. Mifune and Yukito both snatched up their swords quickly and backed out of the room. He saw Gakuto give him a sideways glance before he reached out with a trembling hand to take his own sword. He quickly stilled his hand, but his brother had seen it.

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

Toshio sighed and pulled at the black cloth of his sleeve.

‘This plan of action is distasteful.’

Katsuo straitened and walked over to him. He made a show of bowing a little too respectfully.

‘Is there a plan of action that would be more to your taste, Lord? Shall we pay Tattooed Men to do your dirty work? Shall we mount our Meka and storm the front gates, leaving no doubt as to who has committed this act and bringing war to Lord Sawada’s door? Please, speak your mind and we will obey.’

‘Katsuo, one of these days I will take exception to your tone,’ Toshio checked again that his pistol was loaded and his borrowed sword secure, ‘but I cannot fault your logic. No matter how little I like it, my father has made a demand of me and it must be fulfilled. I will not fail in my duty.’

‘Lord, is this duty or pride? You could excuse yourself from this contest, and continue to serve in the Lord Heir’s forces honourably. There is no shame in refusing a post like this.’

‘There is a lot of shame. Sawada clan has a long and proud history, and it has always needed men of strength and honour to lead it. I do not think my brothers are the best placed to lead the clan, and if I were to walk away, any failure of Sawada would land on my shoulders. No, I will not allow that. I will lead Sawada, as it is the best way.’

Katsuo narrowed his eyes and studied Toshio’s face for a long moment, and then he bowed slightly.

‘My sword is yours, as always, Lord.’

Toshio nodded his thanks. Katsuo turned to the other black-clad member of their raiding party.

‘Jishiro, have you worked out how to use the device yet?’

The younger Samurai fussed over a long tube and sighting system. It looked like an anti-tank weapon, mounted on a tripod on the roof. In truth, it was not entirely dissimilar.

Toshio walked to the edge of the building while his retainers worked. He breathed in, the cool crisp recycled air of the cavern filling his nostrils. Twenty-two stories below, the foot and road traffic was minimal in the office district. Wealthy Samurai were home for the evening, leaving most of the Kieretsu office park unoccupied except by service workers and technicians. In the distance he spotted their target, a small square office block of only five stories. It was rectangular, nondescript and covered in glass- clearly not a fitting place for a relic of such value as the one he was seeking. However, the best way to stop a thief was to not use the strongbox, it has been said.

‘We are ready, Lord.’

Toshio turned and nodded, pulling the black mask down over his face. The others did the same, and at the appropriate signal Jishiro fired the rocket. It flew out of the tube with a hiss before it started its own miniature rocket motor, arcing off into the air. The rocket burned out within only a couple of seconds, but the line it was trailing continued to unwind from the reel. A few seconds later, the unwinding stopped and a shudder came up the line.

Katsuo worked the winch on the reel, pulling in the slack from the line before it sagged onto the ground below. It is said that in the caverns of Mercury, nobody looks higher than their own head, and Toshio was counting on that for this part of the plan. Even the security cameras on the target building were mounted to watch the pavement around it rather than the roof.

Jishiro and Katsuo wedged the metal frame under the line and checked their equipment again. Satisfied, Jishiro stepped forward to the edge of the building. He hooked the small zip-line motor to the cable and steadied himself before leaping into the night.

Toshio couldn’t see his retainer’s dark form in the muted lighting of standard night. He listened to the vibration of the cable and waited. There was a long pause before the zip-line motor returned to the reel end, minus Jishiro. Toshio hoped that the other end was securely attached and grabbed a hold of the handles. He stepped off the building, pulling his feet together and his legs up parallel with the ground. The motor took over, racing him along at high speed. Toshio flew over manicured gardens, walkways and streets as he crossed the gap to the other building.

Very quickly, the roof of the other building sped towards him through the darkness. He breathed out, pulled himself closer to the motor and prepared for impact. The motor began to slow, and Toshio let go the instant he crossed the edge of the target roof. He rolled over his shoulder once, twice, bleeding momentum until he halted in a crouch and scanned his surroundings.

He heard movement and looked up to see Jishiro press the return button on the motor before coming over to check on Toshio. Jishiro was quick to help him to his feet, and pointed Toshio at the planned entry point as he turned to await Katsuo’s arrival.

The door was a small service entry, no doubt used by cleaners and other technical staff to access the roof. It lacked any visible security apart from a basic electric lock.

There was a whirring noise as Katsuo arrived and landed heavily. Soon the three of them were standing next to the door, a trio of black-clad interlopers skulking around the shadows like criminals.

Jishiro stepped forward and prised open an access panel, and then began to attach small clips from a handheld device to the wires. There was a short arc of electricity, and the door clicked. Katsuo swung it open, and the younger man swept down the stairs first.

The space was narrow, and they moved in one at a time. Jishiro had his silenced pistol in hand already, the sword too long to use in the cramped stairway. He braced against the doorframe and gently slid the door open a small crack, peering out.

He looked for a long moment before nodding to Toshio. With a nod in response, he threw the door wide and stepped out into the hall, checking all corners.

The inside of the building was the classic spartan Mishiman style, with white-painted wood panelling and smooth polished floors. Toshio checked the small map that his spy had drawn, and pointed down the corridor.

The trio moved silently, padding along the floor. At the door they paused and checked the angles on the next room. Katsuo pulled the door aside, and Toshio entered, sword in hand. The room was a large chamber, with a series of alcoves around the edges that held numerous books.

Toshio led his retainers to the door indicated on his map when they heard footsteps. All three instinctively drew back into the shadows of the room, standing very still. The footsteps came closer, before a pair of technicians walked into the room. They were both dressed in beige coveralls and chatting about favourite food places in the local Eki.

Sweat beaded on Toshio’s brow as he stood silently in an alcove while the two techs walked past. He could make out the stitching patterns on their footwear, and the red chrysanthemum mons of their employers, the Ito clan, on their shoulders.

One of them pulled out a pen to make amendments on their clipboard but dropped it. The pen hit the floor and rolled, finally coming to rest against Katsuo’s foot. The Technician, oblivious, chased it into the alcove.

Katsuo reacted quickly, seizing the technician by the hair and plunging his sword into the slight man’s neck, piercing him from collarbone to opposite hip. He collapsed like a sack of vegetables, and the other tech looked up in frozen horror at Katsuo’s bloodied blade emerging from the alcove. He turned to run but was grabbed by Jishiro, who locked hands around his neck and choked him. The tech’s eyes bulged and he clawed at his throat, but no sound escaped his lips. He kicked for a few long moments before becoming still.

Jishiro placed the corpses together in the alcove. There was a slowly spreading pool of blood under the first tech, but there was little that could be done about that now. The three samurai left in a hurry.

‘Where to, Lord?’ Jishiro asked, breathlessly, as they ran.

‘Down this long corridor, then to the right and down one more. There should be a small room that opens into a larger one. The helmet should be on show there.’

‘Is that the display room, Lord?’ Katsuo’s question caused the edges of Toshio’s mouth to tighten. _His_ family relic, not merely held by another clan but on display. He nodded. Small doors to the offices of minor functionaries flashed past.

They reached the end of the corridor and the space opened up. The room was a central hub, made of polished granite and with staircases leading up and down. Four corridors led off this room, including the one they had arrived by and the one they were headed to.

The trio eased out of the doorway when they heard a shout.

Toshio looked up to see a gaggle of Ito samurai on the upper floors, all of them armed with rifles. They were suddenly yelling and pointing, levelling their weapons at him. Bullets cracked off the granite around his feet. The lights all switched on, bathing the area in light.

Katsuo hurled a smoke grenade at the floor while Toshio and Jishiro pulled their pistols out. They braced against the doorway and sent fire up into the upper balconies.

An Ito samurai charged into the doorway, sword raised but blinded by the smoke.

He shouted the familiar Mishima war-cry: ‘Defend or destroy!’ Katsuo’s blade caught him across the belly and punched through his armour, spilling his intestines. Katsuo reversed the blade and thrust it into the samurai’s neck, stilling him. The smoke refilled the space and hid him from view.

The fire from the balconies intensified as the Ito men began to co-ordinate their actions. They were no longer aiming, their targets hidden by smoke, but the bang and crack of hostile rounds rattled around the narrow space.

Two more samurai came through the door. Jishiro fired on the nearest, bullets spattering off his breastplate. The Ito man staggered and disappeared into the smoke. Toshio holstered his weapon and drew his sword, leaping forward to deliver a surprise tsuki to the other enemy. It landed right on target, puncturing the man’s throat and emerging on the other side.

There was a shout and the other Ito samurai flew through the air between Toshio and Jishiro. The dense smoke swirled and Katsuo appeared, a blade in each hand, only one of them his.

His eyes had rolled back into his head and a thin trail of blood had emerged from one nostril, matting in his thin moustache.

‘Katsuo! Wha-’

‘My Lord, there is not time! I see! I see them all!’

‘You… you have been developing your command of Ki!’

‘You must go! They approach…’ he pointed in the direction of the doorway, ‘across, right, and down the service stairs. It is the only gap. So many…’

Katsuo turned suddenly and flicked one blade out. A head flew out of the gloom, absent an attached body. He dashed into the smoke, only to return a moment later with both blades bloodied.

‘More smoke! Go now!’

Jishiro threw his smoke grenade automatically as Toshio watched Katsuo disappear again, and then he did the same. He headed into the smoke, suddenly unsure of the right way to go. Katsuo reappeared by his side a moment later, guiding him. He stopped and slashed occasionally, using his Ki to place his blades through the smoke. He pulled Toshio on at a run, and bullets crashed onto the floor for a moment. The fire was slackening as the samurai on the upper floors lost their targets and saw an opportunity to seek out their foes with a blade.

Katsuo halted and turned to Toshio. He pointed ahead, where the smoke was thinning out.

‘No more time, Lord. You must go. The smoke will not protect us much longer. I will hold them for you.’

Toshio froze.

‘Katsuo, no, I need you by my side.’

‘My Lord, I would rather serve you in death than fail you in life.’ He turned his head and charged off into the smoke. Toshio watched him disappear and stood there, his hands and sword slack by his sides.

Jishiro appeared behind him and tugged insistently on his arm.

‘Lord, this way!’

Toshio snapped out of his shock and followed the young samurai.

The sounds of battle chased him all the way down the corridor, growing fainter with every step.

 

*             *             *             *             *


	2. Chapter 2

二番: 澤田学人

  1. Gakuto Sawada



The distant patter of gunfire hadn’t eased. Gakuto shifted uncomfortably on the cushion, ensuring that he smoothed out his immaculate kimono after every move. His actuary fidgeted with his abacus, making a pretence of running numbers. The two burly bodyguards he had hired exchanged nervous glances.

Gakuto checked his watch again. Fifteen minutes! He would be ashamed to keep a dignitary from another Kieretsu waiting for so long, if this were occurring in a Sawada facility. His hosts had disappeared at the first sounds of gunfire and only reappeared briefly since that point. Now one of them had re-appeared at the door and bowed deeply.

‘Honoured guest, I am assured that this disturbance is only temporary. It is in another part of the building and is not headed this way. Lord Ito takes the safety of his guests very seriously.’

Gakuto stared at the man for a long moment and narrowed his eyes. He stood suddenly and regarded him with a stern expression. The Ito man shrank from the stare.

‘That is the same thing you have said on at least three occasions thus far. If Lord Ito does not want to send someone to meet with me then my time is being wasted. I am sure that Lord Ito means no offence. Am I to conclude that he is poorly served by his men?’

The functionary bowed deeper and apologised again.

‘This disturbance was not anticipated. We-’

‘We do not have such security issues at Sawada offices. Perhaps it is Lord Ito’s security staff who have failed him.’

‘Honoured guest Sawada, I apologi-’

‘Your apology means nothing. I have spent a considerable amount of time and effort setting up this meeting. I have business with Lord Ito, not with you. If you cannot produce someone with authority within the next five minutes, I will take my business dealings elsewhere.’

The Ito man’s face turned scarlet. He bowed and hurried out.

The gunfire continued, unabated. Gakuto began to pace.

His actuary cleared his throat.

‘Lord, perhaps this is not the right time to negotiate with Ito clan. We can come back tomorrow and try again, after this disturbance.’

Gakuto shot the man a withering look. He motioned to the technician and raised his eyebrows, at which the technician bowed and checked the device he was babysitting. After a moment, he nodded and bowed again. The suppression field was still in place- no electronic ears would listen to them.

‘This is precisely the right time. Ito will be distracted by the disturbance and will be more willing to let us have the helmet for less than they would otherwise. Indeed, they will ask less just to get us out of here and cover up their embarrassment over the security breach. They may even try to compensate me for the delay.’

He looked at his security chief.

‘Any word on what it might be?’

The samurai shook his head. He was wearing a streamlined version of a Kote powersuit, minus the helmet.

Gakuto resumed his pacing. Three minutes passed.

He turned to his retinue and directed them to start packing their equipment for departure. As he was halfway through issuing instructions, a trio of Ito samurai entered from the other door, wearing peach-coloured armour with red Ito mons on the shoulders. One of the Samurai was carrying a Sashimono flag.

None of them bowed. Gakuto turned to them and set his face.

‘What is this? You decide to approach a guest like you are ready for war?’

The lead of the three put his hands on his hips and looked Gakuto up and down. Gakuto’s bodyguards tensed up behind him.

‘You are the Sawada guest?’

Gakuto looked at the man in surprise.

‘Is this how Ito treat their guests now?’

The armoured samurai grunted.

‘I am Tenji Ito, son of Lord Aki Ito.’

Gakuto paused.

‘Ito-san, is this how you would like our clans to relate? Is this the appropriate way to treat a guest? I would hope that Lord Sawada never acts in such a manner.’

Tenji responded by turning and clapping his hands. A fourth samurai appeared in the doorway and bowed before scurrying away. Tenji turned back to Gakuto.

‘It is a curious thing. You have appeared here so suddenly at our facility here. A facility, I might add, that is not much used for more than minor administration. On the same night that you appear, I find intruders in this very building.’

There was a long pause.

‘A very curious thing indeed.’

Gakuto remained silent. The fourth samurai reappeared at the door and bowed before handing Tenji a bag. Tenji looked at Gakuto, the hint of a smile playing about his lips. He pulled the drawstring on the bag and spilled its contents in between them.

Gakuto looked down and saw the lifeless eyes of Katsuo, his brother Toshio’s lieutenant. He took a step back and curled his lips in distaste. Tenji watched his expression carefully.

‘So you know this man, Sawada?’ The Ito Samurai’s hands flew to their swords.

‘I know this,’ Gakuto said, swallowing, ‘I am here to negotiate with you for the purchase of an asset. You have shown nothing but poor security and worse manners since I have arrived. I will have nothing more to do with you.’

Ito looked taken aback.

‘So you deny involvement in this raid, Sawada? I’m sure it would be …advantageous for you to be here to distract me. If I were to find such an act being carried out, I would have no option but to avenge my honour.’

Gakuto looked at the head and back to Ito.

‘I do not know this head. I _do_ know that I am finished here.’

Tenji slammed his fist into the low table.

‘I will find out who hired these raiders, Sawada. Rest assured of that.’

Gakuto stood, slowly and deliberately. He kept his hand away from his sword.

‘I am sure that you will, Ito. I am also sure that you will ensure the safety of myself and my retainers, lest I must report that the eldest son of Ito let down his father. I would be sure that you would not let down your father, though, would you?’

Ito stood, as slowly as Gakuto had. He leaned in, a scowl crowding his features.

‘I will assign my men to escort you, Sawada. I would hate to have anything happen to such a … _guest_.’

He stepped back and motioned the samurai in the hall. Half a dozen men appeared in short order and surrounded the Sawada party. Gakuto nodded slowly to Tenji and then turned to his actuary, whispering in his ear.

‘Let’s go. Get us out of here before Ito changes his mind.’

The actuary hurriedly gave orders to the technician and bodyguards. They quickly packed up their belongings and equipment and followed Gakuto out of the room.

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

‘Lord, I-’

Gakuto ignored the man as he stormed into Toshio’s room. Toshio was sitting very quietly on the balcony overlooking the immaculate green gardens. He looked around suddenly at Gakuto’s brash entrance.

‘You!’ He pointed an accusing finger at Toshio. Toshio scrambled to his feet. Gakuto advanced on him.

‘I would have expected more from you, _brother_.’

Toshio frowned and narrowed his eyes.

‘I would have expected honour, and strength. I would not have expected you to take the role of a man of the shadows. If these are the lengths to which you are prepared to go to seize the mantle of Lord Sawada, you would prove yourself unworthy!’

Toshio’s hand gripped his sword, but relaxed as Gakuto turned away and began to pace, glaring at Toshio every time he turned around. He cleared his throat.

‘Brother, to what are you referring?’

Gakuto threw his hands up.

‘Do not deny that you were there, brother. I was shown Katsuo’s head.’

Toshio winced at the mention of his retainer. Gakuto continued.

‘I was about to meet with an Ito official to negotiate a price for the helmet when you appeared and started shooting indiscriminately. You ruined my careful action. You stirred a nest of hornets, and I only just managed to escape with my life.’

Toshio frowned again.

‘You were there?’

Gakuto nodded and held his fingers up, ready to count off a list of grievances. Toshio spoke, cutting him off.

‘I thought the defensive presence was excessive. I did not know that I had a snake for a brother, prepared to tip them off that the helmet was being sought. How much would you have gotten for it after providing that assistance to Ito?’

Gakuto halted, mouth agape.

‘Tipped them off?’

Toshio inclined his head in confirmation.

‘You sabotaged my approach, brother. I did not sabotage yours.’

Toshio met his look levelly.

‘So you say. What am I to truly believe?’

Gakuto glared at him.

‘I will have you know that-’

There was a small cough at the door. Both brothers spun around and regarded the house functionary with harsh stares.

‘Lords,’ he began, haltingly, ‘Lord Sawada requests his sons, immediately.’

Gakuto shot Toshio a last glare and stalked out.

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

The brothers approached the dais from the four doors as before. Gakuto noticed that Mifune was already in the room and seated on his stool. Lord Sawada gestured from the dais, animatedly.

‘Come, my sons. Sit!’

Gakuto bowed deeply, then pulled his blade and held it out as he’d done before, placing it down in front of his stool. As he sat, he noticed the ancient battle-helm sitting on the dais already.

Lord Sawada gestured to his squire, and the armoured samurai walked forward. He picked up a scarlet sash from the rack, descended to the floor, and walked to Mifune. He bowed deeply and stayed down, offering up the sash for Mifune to take. The eager samurai took the sash and quickly tied it around his arm, resuming his seat.

‘Mifune, you have done well. I have no wish to hear the specifics of your victory, but I am sure that your brothers are curious. I am sure that you will enjoy telling them, too! Now, however, I am pleased with the completion of this first test. It is time for the next.’

He clicked his fingers and his squire came forward with a small file of information. Lord Sawada held it up, and other house retainers came forward with a similar file for each of the brothers.

‘This is what we know about the Tokuyama clan. They are smaller than us, but not so small that we could crush them easily. I will give the next sash to the son who brings me ownership of their production assets. All of them.’

Gakuto maintained a level posture, but smirked inwardly. This would no doubt be a perfect task for someone of his skills. The four brothers bowed as Lord Sawada left the room.

They each picked up their swords and placed them back onto their belts. Gakuto turned, deliberately facing his back to Toshio, and spoke to Mifune.

‘Brother, I am impressed! How did you get possession of the helmet?’

Mifune laughed. ‘I should not tell you that, you would get ideas, my brother.’

Gakuto continued smiling impassively.

‘Alright, brothers. It was simple. I went to the sake den nearest the office block and bribed an Ito technician. I had the helmet in my possession by midnight.’ He cast an amused eye over Toshio and Gakuto.

‘I understand there was a …disturbance there later that night? How unfortunate. I hope that Ito wasn’t too embarrassed.’ Toshio glared back at him, and Gakuto’s smile disappeared.

Both of them turned and stalked out of the room. Mifune turned to Yukito, beaming and looking pointedly at his sash. Yukito responded with a vacant smile and left.

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

‘You’re sure of the calculations, Kisuke?’

The actuary furrowed his brow.

‘Lord, I would not present such bad news without ensuring accuracy.’

Gakuto nodded. The man had been working for him too long to test his temper.

‘If I may, Lord…’ Gakuto froze and cocked an eyebrow. He nodded for Kisuke to proceed.

‘We do not have the resources to purchase Tokuyama outright. They make tools and dies for casting, we make weapon components, so we can’t compete them out of business. In fact, they have more leverage over us- if they halted supply it would restrict our ability to produce. Maybe there is some way we can reduce the value of their assets?’

Gakuto tapped a finger to his lips and resumed his slow pacing.

‘If they halted supply… interesting.’

Kisuke cocked an eyebrow and held up a couple of letters for comparison.

‘Lord?’

‘Send me some scribes. I have a few favours to call in.’

Kisuke bowed and rose on shaky legs. He smoothed out his greying hair before Gakuto halted him with a gesture.

‘Send for my shinobi, too. I wish to know what my brothers are planning this time.’

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

‘So, if I understand you correctly, Sawada, we should do this immediately?’

Gakuto nodded sagely. He kept smooth pace with his hosts, walking through their green gardens along a path of smooth grey stone.

‘Tokuyama has recently changed their business practices. I estimate that within five years they will be bankrupt, chasing glory by attempting a buy-out of mining stocks. I fear they seek a monopoly of tools and dies.’

The older of the two hosts coughed.

‘Sawada, I still fail to see the urgency. Why must we cancel our contracts now? It seems we have four years of good contracts before we need to stop selling them steel.’

Gakuto paused. He indicated the stream they were walking alongside, and the host nodded. He leaned down and took some small leaves, fashioning them into a boat.

‘Hanzo-san, imagine that this boat represents a business. A good business, as long as it floats.’ He placed the boat into a slow-moving pool along the stream. ‘Now,’ he picked up a polished white stone, ‘This is the effect of a bad decision.’

He threw the stone into the pool and watched as the ripples spread. They pushed the little leaf boat into the main current, where it was quickly swept away and overturned.

‘Would you prefer to stop the ripples from hitting the boat or stop them from being made in the first place?’

‘Sawada-san, do you always ask questions with such obvious answers? I fail to see, however, how that little boat is anything but Tokuyama. How would it impact us?’

‘Those ripples do not pick just one direction. They will have an impact for all of us. If they succeed in monopolising their business here, we pay higher prices and have to be careful as they gain power. If they fail, as I expect, their competitors will become more powerful, and everyone who bought Tokuyama equipment will not be able to buy replacement parts.’

‘…Including Sawada clan. I was wondering where your true interest lay with this.’

Gakuto shrugged and they resumed walking for a short while. By the time they reached the small bridge over the stream, the older Hanzo man stopped them.

‘Gakuto Sawada, you have proven in the past to have remarkable foresight in your investment advice, and for that reason, I will honour your words on this subject. We will no longer supply Tokuyama, at least until they reverse their decisions, and then we can re-negotiate with them. However…’

Gakuto smiled. No deal came without a price.

‘This will mean that we have just cancelled a contract that we intended to honour. Therefore, we have a large quantity of high-grade steel that we no longer have a buyer for. I am sure that Sawada has some use for this steel. I am sure that they won’t worry about paying a premium for the quality of the product, either.’

Gakuto spread his hands. He tried to keep his face friendly but neutral- showing too much emotion might tip his hand at this point. As eager as he was just to cut off Tokuyama, he didn’t want the Hanzo clan to see how eager he was- such a mistake could be fatal in business. On the other hand, not giving Hanzo a supportive offer would be insulting enough that they might not follow through on cancelling the contract.

‘High-grade steel? Will that be of use to us? I would have to check with our manufacturing department. It sounds like you have this steel as surplus, so I think we might prefer surplus trading prices. We should also consult with our other steel suppliers to see what they might offer as a counter-proposal.’

The younger Hanzo nodded appreciatively.

‘Sawada clan has been a friend to Hanzo over the years. I am sure that you can see that helping a friend with small problems is an honourable deed. It would also cement our contract for future supply.’

Gakuto looked at him impassively. The younger man looked back, and for a long moment nothing was said. It was the older man who broke the silence.

‘Market price, plus ten percent.’

‘Three,’ shot back Gakuto, ‘and a five percent increase in future orders, at current price.’

The two Hanzo men looked at each other.

‘Six percent. And we will announce this deal publicly.’

Gakuto’s mouth suddenly went dry. He didn’t want them to know what he was doing as it would give other clans leverage over him, but he had trouble passing up the opportunity to make an immediate impact on Tokuyama.

‘Please, Hanzo-san. Sawada prefers help for friends to be carried out in private. It would be immodest for us to seek praise. By all means announce the cessation of the Tokuyama supply, but we will only agree to five percent if it is between old friends alone.’

The older Hanzo nodded curtly.

‘It has been a pleasure talking to you as always, Gakuto Sawada. Please pass on my greetings to your father.’

Gakuto and the Hanzo representatives bowed to each other. Gakuto turned and walked across the bridge, out of the gardens. Kisuke was waiting for him there, a radio in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.

‘Success, Lord?’

‘Indeed. I think this will be enough- we don’t want to go so far as to kill their business just to present the corpse to my father. We will wait for Tokuyama to stumble before we strike.’

He checked over his shoulder reflexively.

‘What news of my brothers?’

‘Lord Toshio has been in the training room. His retainer has been sent to inform the Lord Heir of the death of his other retainer. They’re calling it a training accident, saying that he fell to his death in a chasm. Lord Yukito has been meditating in the gardens.’

‘And Mifune?’

‘Lord Mifune has spent the last two days drinking. The bars he has frequented have been known Tokuyama dens.’

‘Trying to bribe a whole Kieretsu this time? Ensure that we keep tabs on who meets with him. He has one sash already, and I cannot afford to underestimate him.’

‘Just so, Lord. Shall we go?’

Gakuto preceded his elderly actuary to the train. They rode in silence for most of the journey, Gakuto looking out the window at the cavernous underworld of Tambu.

The roof was so far above their heads that no matter how good his eyes were he couldn’t make it out. Here at the head of the cavern, where the various clans that made up the combine all stationed their headquarters and family estates, a bright point of light shone. The harsh light of the entirely too close sun was filtered through an impressive array of filters, baffles and mirrors to produce this miniature version of the same.

For the wealthy families of the High City, this was something taken for granted. Behind him, well away from the centre of wealth and power, the cavern sloped down into darkness and thick clouds of smog. Down there, where the commoners toiled in the many factories, was where the real work of Tambu went on. The mining firms were continually expanding the cavern, digging up more ores and clearing room for more factories.

Gakuto looked ahead to the distant walls of the Ironkeep. Tambu was the monopoly supplier of weapons to Mishima, from the light weapons carried by average infantry up to the largest of cannon or rocket launchers adorning the massive Tatsu Gigameks. Within the Ironkeep, the Daimyo of Tambu ensured that competing interests from across Mishima were either kept suppressed or bought and incorporated into the fold.

He caught himself doing something he hadn’t since he was a child- counting the tiny figures of Meka patrolling the battlements of the Ironkeep. Normally a rare and expensive commodity, Meka were in relative abundance in Tambu. As producers of their systems and weapons, Tambu companies were rarely without at least one Meka, with most of them loaned to the forces of the Lord Heir’s standing army or the defences of Tambu itself. Legend had it that a thousand such machines patrolled the Ironkeep’s walls, and although Gakuto knew such numbers simply couldn’t be real, they made a highly-visible statement when so many could be seen from anywhere in the High City.

He tried to hide a smug grin. Most visitors to Tambu considered the Meka to be a symbol of power, of warriors ready to do the bidding of the Daimyos and the Lord Heir. Gakuto knew differently- the weapons platforms were hideously expensive to construct and operate, let alone to maintain. Outside Tambu and some of the larger Kieretsu, it was a rarity to hold a Meka in the armouries of a single clan. Even where they existed, they were often older models that moved more slowly despite carying lighter armour and weapons.

The bold statement of the Ironkeep was simple. Here you will find so many Meka that we can afford to keep dozens visibly patrolling the walls at any time of day or night. How many would you face in open battle if you were to attack us? More importantly, how much economic might must the combine have to operate so many just for show?

The train slowed and deposited Gakuto and Kisuke nearby the Sawada estate. The craft sped off smoothly, leaving them alone on the platform. Kisuke’s radio buzzed, and he spoke quickly into it.

‘The announcement has gone through, Lord. Hanzo are no longer supplying Tokuyama until they refrain from what are being called ‘reckless business practices’.

‘Already. Hmm, Hanzo are keen to secure our business.’

As they walked the short distance to the estate, Kisuke’s radio buzzed twice more, confirming the cancellation of other supplies to Tokuyama. By the time they had reached Gakuto’s room, there were already reports of suicides from within the target clan.

‘Lord, apparently they had a big order that was supposed to be filled within a month. They cannot renegotiate the supply of steel and other materials within that timeframe. I believe that they are going to be looking for a way out very soon.’

‘And you shall fall on them like a small dog falls on a corpse.’

Both men looked around in surprise. Toshio strode in, dressed in his training shirt and Hakama, a sword belted to his side.

‘Brother. Have you come to applaud my ingenuity?’

Toshio didn’t respond, instead walking to the balcony and looking down.

‘Why must you choose so dishonourable a path, Gakuto?’

‘Toshio, The world is not black and white. There is a middle ground between absolute honour and dishonour.’

‘You cannot simply buy them, so you seek to weaken them. You call this ingenuity, but it is simply playing in shadows. The honourable actor would have done so publicly.’

Gakuto sighed.

‘Brother, if you are wrestling with an opponent, would you try to fell them when they are on balance and strong? Or would you misdirect them, break their balance and only strike after they were already falling?’

Toshio glared at him. Gakuto continued.

‘Would you bring your sword down on an opponent’s helmet or their neck?’

Toshio’s glare turned to a snarl.

‘I think, brother, that you need some wise counsel. I hear your best adviser recently …retired?’

Toshio’s hand flew to his sword hilt. Both men stood extremely still, glaring at each other. Moments stretched out. Kisuke slowly started to back away from the pair.

‘Well, if it isn’t two of my three favourite brothers.’

They both turned to see Mifune leaning casually against the door frame. Toshio’s grip relaxed.

‘Toshio, Gakuto… you can kill each other later. There is something more important first.’

‘What is that, Mifune,’ Gakuto said through gritted teeth, ‘Have you another sash to claim?’

Mifune chuckled.

‘Not yet, brother, but in time. I am here to tell you that you have a guest. He is standing and the gates and calling for Gakuto.’

‘Me?’

‘Just so. Shall I tell him to come back later?’

Gakuto glared at Mifune and stalked out of the room. Toshio and Mifune followed him.

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

Outside, it was growing dark. The massive overhead light source hadn’t changed position, but as the planet rotated the sun’s rays no longer powered it. More muted lighting picked up all around the High City throughout the standard night.

At the gate was a single man, dressed in a fine silk Kimono that bore impressions of mountains around it. He was glaring at them through the open gates.

Upon seeing the trio approaching, he opened his mouth and let out a booming roar.

‘I will kill every Sawada I have to until I get Gakuto! If he is lacking in honour so much that he needs others to fight with him, I will kill them too!’

Toshio stepped to one side and yelled back.

‘We are his brothers. We are here only to bear witness.’

Mifune’s eyebrows raised, but he stood back as well.

‘Gakuto Sawada! You have taken my sons from me! You will now die!’

The man drew his sword and pulled the scabbard from his belt. He cast the scabbard aside, showing his readiness to die. Gakuto swallowed, and the trio proceeded through the gate.

‘Whom is it that seeks so readily to die?’ He asked.

‘Atsushi Tokuyama. The finest toolmaker in Tambu. My blade is made by my family, to our exacting standards. My swordsmanship is practiced with the same care. You have thoughtlessly struck at the mountain, and now the mountain will bury you.’

Gakuto paced around the man, clenching his jaw. His hand was already on the hilt of his own blade, but he knew that any contest of swordplay would be his weak point.

‘So, you build a fine shop but fail to build an adequate foundation. How was it I was so easily able to knock it over? If you think that you are unable to stop manoeuvres in the business arena, you resort so readily to a contest of blades? This is how you would cover your failings?’

The man fumed, his eyes locked on Gakuto’s.

‘It would be better for all concerned if you realise that your clan needs better guidance in matters of business. Sawada can purchase your assets and you can swear your sword and fine tool-making to my father’s side.’

‘It is too late for that!’ the man was practically screaming. ‘My sons will be avenged!’

Gakuto narrowed his eyes.

‘I have taken no lives in this pursuit.’

‘My sons have taken their own after your underhanded dealings! Enough! If you won’t draw your blade I will cut you down anyway!’

Gakuto swallowed again, his throat dry. There would be no more talking about this one.

He drew his sword out of the scabbard- slowly, deliberately. He paused his pacing and held his blade low and to the right in one hand. He could see Tokuyama studying his stance, his eyes, looking for the next move.

The man charged abruptly, sweeping through with a direct naname-cut from the shoulder. Gakuto picked the move just in time and darted out of the way. He felt the whisper of a blade behind him and spun, Tokuyama’s return blow having clipped a sliver of fabric from Gakuto’s kimono sleeves.

The two stood again, each eyeing the other for an opening. Gakuto’s brow beaded with sweat, and he adopted a strait middle stance, his blade held in front of him and his legs set. His opponent adopted the same stance, their blades mere inches apart.

Gakuto tried to take the initiative, rearing up to make a simple overhead cut. Tokuyama was faster, spearing forward with a Tsuki that Gakuto only just managed to avoid in time. His chest burned and a line of blood stained his kimono. He flicked his sword and batted the other away, the flat of his blade to the flat of his opponent’s. They resumed their standoff. Tokuyama grinned cruelly.

‘You are so sure in business, Gakuto Sawada, and yet see how poorly you fare with a sword in your hand. Is this why you deal so dishonourably? A true samurai would not neglect his training so.’

Gakuto’s face was rigid with pain. He stepped one way, only to sweep across the other. His opponent judged the distance and let his blade pass before stepping in and shaving a measure of flesh off the back of Gakuto’s calf.

Gakuto cried out in alarm and leapt back, landing poorly on his injured leg. Blood tricked down over his sandals. He saw his brothers behind his opponent. Toshio’s face warred between sympathy and delight at the sight of his brother’s failings. Mifune wore his usual drunken grin.

Gakuto waited for his opponent to come to him, wavering in his stance and tightening his grip on the sword. He did not have to wait long, as Tokuyama circled him like a predator. The older man drove forward off his front foot, leading with an asa-cut. Just as Gakuto stepped to one side, aiming to cut down over the top of the other man’s blade, Tokuyama halted and stabbed downward, less a classic tsuki thrust and more of a brawling move. It pierced Gakuto’s right side cleanly, slipping between ribs. He coughed, and blood trickled from his lips.

Tokuyama pulled his blade from his opponent, and Gakuto collapsed to the ground. He stood over the bleeding man, rage in his eyes. He held the blade up, ready to deliver the deathblow.

‘Stop!’

All of them turned to look at the voice, except Gakuto, who was clutching at his wounds. The new voice sounded familiar to him, somehow. He saw Tokuyama step back, unsure.

‘You have a quarrel not with this man but with the whole Sawada clan. You have defeated him, are you prepared to fight the next of us?’

The man’s lips peeled back in a predatory grin.

‘I will kill as many Sawada as necessary.’

Gakuto saw the figure come into view. He looked at Yukito’s face in confusion- he had never heard his brother’s voice raised beyond a quiet murmur before. Yukito advanced steadily on Tokuyama, his hands not once venturing near the swords at his hip.

Tokuyama stepped back in alarm, clearly waiting for Yukito to draw a sword. When Yukito didn’t stop, he raised his blade to deliver an overhead cut that would split the man in half. Yukito suddenly became a blur, whispering past Tokuyama and his relatively clumsy strike.

Tokuyama went bolt upright in surprise. He stood there for a long moment, Yukito to his rear, his sword wavering in mid-strike. His grip loosened, and the blade tumbled to the ground. A moment later, he collapsed, his own short sword embedded in his back.

Gakuto’s breath rattled and his world went dark.

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

His breath burned in his chest. His eyes opened to a fuzzy bright light, his limbs feeling leaden. Gakuto kept his breathing shallow and gentle, not trying to push the painful air too deep. He turned his head from side to side in an attempt to see what was going on.

He was lying in a small room, the sun streaming in through an upper window. He could hear birds chirping outside. He was lying on a futon mattress, a small pillow under his head. There was a bowl with rolled towels sitting on the low table next to him.

Looking down, he saw thick bandages wrapped around his chest. He tried to prop himself into a seating position, but found it too hard. He collapsed back onto the mattress.

A household maid in a simple kimono knelt next to him, gently wetting the towel and wiping his face with quick, deft movements. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held his head and he fell silent.

‘My Lord, you must save your strength. I will attend you until you are well again.’

He let his head flop back onto the pillow. He was helpless for the time being. Gakuto went back over his memory of the event, and the shame of his defeat burned in his heart. His brother had prevented the most honourable end for him, halting that fatal blow. His rapid defeat of Tokuyama only served to show the inadequacies in Gakuto’s swordsmanship.

‘Ki… Ki…su…ke.’ His voice rasped out, sounding all too close to his death rattle on the road outside. The maid looked set to chide him for speaking, but she moved back and bowed from the kneeling position, disappearing from view. Gakuto closed his eyes again.

When he opened them, he felt stiff and sore but less leaden. He looked around again, sighting the maid in the corner, washing the bowl. He turned his head the other way to find Kisuke kneeling patiently by his side.

‘Lord.’ He bowed. Gakuto waved him closer.

‘Kisuke. I assume you have heard what has happened.’ His actuary nodded. ‘Then you know what must be done. I will recover enough strength to commit seppuku properly, so when I call for you, you must bring me my swords.’

Kisuke hesitated. His eyes looked up from Gakuto towards the door. Gakuto followed the man’s gaze slowly, finding Yukito standing there. He was dressed in a simple shirt and hakama, as though he had been training.

On seeing Gakuto looking at him, Yukito stepped forward. He took up a position on Gakuto’s other side, sitting cross-legged on the floor. His hair was somewhat unkempt, falling down around his face and obscuring his eyes.

‘Brother, you cannot commit seppuku.’

Gakuto’s brow furrowed.

‘Honour …demands it. You …cannot deny me honour.’

Yukito sat unmoving.

‘I would not deny you honour. Nor would you deny any of your brothers theirs. That is why you cannot commit seppuku.’

Gakuto’s words died in his throat. Yukito answered his questioning expression.

‘If you commit seppuku, you invalidate our father’s selection process. You will rob the winner of some of their legitimacy. It will ever be the day that we lost one of the famous four brothers.’

Gakuto looked at his impassive face for a long moment, and then he nodded. His gaze moved around the room, indicating his current predicament.

‘How …long? What happened? …who won?’

Yukito looked away.

‘Toshio took command of the house samurai and went to the door of the Tokuyama estate. He demanded their surrender and received it, as they had lost the strong head of their family. He has the second sash. Our next contest is simple, but you will not participate in your current condition.’

Yukito looked back at him then, his piercing gaze like a laser.

‘The winner of the next sash will be the son who brings back to our father the head of the Blademaster of the O-ten Ki school.’

 

*             *             *             *             *


	3. Chapter 3

三番: 澤田三船

  1. Mifune Sawada



Mifune sat on the balcony of his room, looking over the stone garden on the southern side of the house. He knelt patiently, admiring the scene in front of him. Truly, it was good fortune that he be permitted to live in such a beautiful place as this estate, even for a moment.

He opened the book lying in front of him, leafing through until he found the first blank page. With his right hand, he took the brush and carefully inked it. He paused, considering his words carefully.

 _Dear Father_ , he wrote, the crisp characters forming under the soft tip of the brush.

_I have failed, and I humbly apologise. I have always sought to throw myself into any task with complete dedication, no matter the cost._

_In this case, that cost was my life. I hope that I have prevented shame from falling upon our family. I can only try as hard as my talents allow me, and I hope that in my death I have not fallen short of that marker._

_The great sage Yuroji tells us: your efforts are but those of an ant. However, ants working together can build the mightiest of anthills. So too, I hope that my efforts help to build the mighty tower of Sawada._

_I know that I am a good shot, and a great fighter with my hands. These, however, are not the tools of a Samurai. I sought to confront the master of O-ten on my terms, but what use are one’s hands against a blade? What use is firing a shot if at the cost of an honourable victory? Here I have failed, and thus my soul is claimed for the next life._

_Right to the end, I remain loyal._

Mifune frowned at the last line. He had planned to write _I remain your loyal son_ , but at some point his hand had done something different to what his mind intended. He pushed the matter to one side and inked his hanko stamp, thumping it to the paper to sign his death letter.

He took the small envelope and removed the letter already there. He gave the folded paper a cursory glance, noting his failure to acquire Tokuyama and how he had been caught in his infiltration attempts. He grimaced and placed the old letter back into the book, replacing it in the envelope with the fresh one he had penned.

He handed the letter to the serving maid and picked up the small teacup.

The liquid was warm on his lips and felt satisfying as it filled his belly. Today was a fine day indeed.

Mifune hoped to be alive to see the sunset.

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

Mifune entered the training room, dressed in merely a pair of hakama. He glowered at Toshio, who was practicing his sword techniques in the far corner of the dojo. Toshio glared back.

He began his warmup drills, leaping into the air and diving to the ground. He did pushups, rolled and stretched his body. He tried to ignore Toshio’s sword technique, but he did note that it was focussed almost exclusively on killing blows.

Mifune sparred with the empty air, moving his hands and feet with speed. He punched, turned, kicked, rolled and chopped with deadly intent.

‘Do you plan to kill the Blademaster by boring him to death, brother?’

Mifune stopped short. He looked at Toshio, who had re-sheathed his training blade and was watching the unarmed display with thinly veiled contempt. Mifune gave a cold smile and resumed his practice.

‘Brother Toshio. How good it is to see you this morning. I do hope that you have recovered from seeing so much blood last night.’

‘You? Who stood there as our brother was cut down?’

Mifune stopped.

‘He brought that upon his own head. I did not see you leaping to his defence.’

Toshio looked away.

‘Yukito made an error. He should not have interfered. How is this supposed to be a contest between brothers if… if…’

Both of them looked down. Mifune flexed his shoulders.

‘I intend to call the master out and kill him in personal combat.’

Toshio snorted.

‘With what? I can best you with a blade. How well do you think that you will perform against a Blademaster?’

‘I will use these,’ he held up his bare hands, ‘and being a man of honour, he will not use his blade to face me.’

‘Good luck. You will need it.’

Mifune smiled at Toshio again.

‘And how do you intend to win this contest, brother?’

‘I will call him out in personal combat. However, I will win.’

‘As you said, brother, you can only just beat me. What chance do you have to take down a Blademaster with a sword?’

Toshio smiled and left the training room. Mifune suddenly didn’t have the heart to continue training.

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

The O-ten school was an unassuming compound in a lower part of the High City. Mifune looked around the gate, a large red wooden Torii, adorned with the name of the school.

Mifune wasn’t fully aware of the feud between Sawada and O-ten, but he did know that it had been going on for generations. He had befriended the head groundskeeper of his father’s estate, a monk who seemed as old as the estate itself, and even he wasn’t sure how it had started. Occasionally one side or the other would find some way to reignite the feud, a few more people would be injured or killed and a little more property would be damaged.

Inside the gate, a low building dominated the grounds. It looked like there were four buildings built around an open courtyard, but Mifune could see nobody within. In fact, it seemed like there was nobody in the area at all- even the neighbouring estates were silent. He hesitated.

Mifune halted just on the public side of the gate. He carefully disrobed, placing his kimono onto a nearby rock, and stood in his hakama in the middle of the street. He drew in a deep breath and yelled into the silence.

‘IF THE BLADEMASTER OF THIS SCHOOL HAS ANY HONOUR, HE WILL COME OUT AND DEFEND IT!’

The silence didn’t respond. A slight breeze kicked up a small pile of leaves. Birds chirped in a nearby tree. Mifune drew in another breath.

‘I AM MIFUNE SAWADA AND I HAVE HEARD THAT THE BLADEMASTER IS A COWARD! HE WILL NOT COME OUT AND FACE A SIMPLE, UNARMED SAMURAI! WHAT A FOOL!’

There was still no response. He was just drawing breath for another outburst when a small man appeared from a side door. He was white-haired, bent at the waist and leaning heavily on a broom. The old man regarded him with a puzzled expression for a moment.

‘Are you well, young man? Can I help you?’

Mifune snorted.

‘I am Mifune Sawada! I seek combat with the Blademaster of this school. Are you the Blademaster?’

The old man threw his head back and laughed.

‘Blademaster! My word! I keep the grounds. There is nobody here today!’

Mifune’s cheeks coloured.

‘Where have they gone?’

‘Young man, if you want to join the school and learn their techniques, you will have to come back tomorrow.’

‘I demand… to…’

Mifune turned to look at the new sound that had arisen from over a small rise. There was a low whine like an engine, accompanied by slight, rhythmic hisses. It got louder, and he heard a sound like massive crunching footsteps.

_Footsteps._

Between a pair of trees, a massive green armoured walker appeared. It towered over Mifune, easily three times his own height. The legs and arms were thick with armour, sporting a set of talons from each hand. The bulbous torso was painted with a large brown beak, and the armour with jade-coloured feathers. Mifune noticed that the usual light machine gun and flamethrower mounted on the back of each hand were missing today.

Toshio halted the _Jade Peregrine_ a few metres from his brother. Mifune looked up and glared at the cockpit, to which Toshio made the Meka perform a stiff, formal bow.

‘I WILL TAKE OVER, BROTHER.’ The loudspeakers boomed, leaving a ringing in Mifune’s ears.

Toshio turned the _Peregrine_ and strode through the gate, the Torii breaking like a plank across the Meka’s torso. He continued striding, not pausing as he reached and walked through the building. The machine disappeared into the courtyard beyond.

Mifune got over the shock of his brother’s entrance and hurried after him. As he passed, the janitor sighed and started sweeping up the debris.

Inside the courtyard, there was nobody. Toshio swung the machine’s torso left and right, seeking a target. The loudspeakers boomed again.

‘IS THERE NOBODY HERE TO FIGHT FOR THIS SCHOOL? MUST I FLATTEN EVERYTHING TO FIND YOU?’

‘If you want a fight, you only have to ask nicely.’

Mifune looked down to see a young man with long loose hair standing on the far side of the courtyard. He held a staff in one hand. His Kimono was long, with images of the four elements patterned upon it.

‘Ah, the master returns.’ Mifune looked down to see the janitor standing next to him, leaning on the broken timbers of one of the buildings.  The old man bowed formally, slowly pulling himself back up again.

‘Master, I may need some time to fix this broken house.’

The Blademaster waved away the man’s concerns. He placed his staff to one side and approached the towering war machine in his courtyard.

‘So Sawada wishes to escalate this feud. Very well.’

He strode under the cockpit of the Meka and over to the far end of the courtyard. He turned, facing Toshio, and bowed at the waist.

‘You may not have manners enough to respect the school, but I will not be known for killing a man without formalities. May your death be worth whatever you seek here, Sawada.’

Toshio performed the same odd bow that he had for Mifune, and then spread his mount’s claws wide. The Blademaster drew his own sword and faced him, calmly.

Toshio took one cautious step forward, and then another. He steadily closed the distance between them until the Blademaster was just outside of his reach. The Blademaster didn’t move.

After a long moment of standoff, Toshio struck. He swung one taloned arm across in a flat arc, causing the Blademaster to dodge backward. He followed up with the other talon in a thrust, but the claws tore through the wooden wall as the O-ten master dived under it. The man slashed at the machine, cutting at what exposed lines he could find. There was a small shower of fluid, and the master rolled out from under the Meka before Toshio could turn around.

The machine immediately charged at him, moving surprisingly quickly for its bulk. The talons sought him in small, precise strokes, but the man was always a little too quick for the lumbering machine. He darted between the claws again but this time Toshio heaved to one side, using the bulk of his Meka to pivot away from the master. He kicked one leg out that caught the man in the back, hurling him through the air and into another building through the window.

The master burst through the door of the building, tearing it into splinters. He adopted a half-crouch on the veranda, eyeing the machine opposite. Mifune noticed the janitor tutting at the property damage being inflicted.

The courtyard seemed to darken, and Mifune’s eyes were drawn to the sky. There, a cloud was forming, growing black and heavy with rain. Fat drops of water started to patter down around them, and the master raised his blade to charge at Toshio. He avoided the clumsy strikes of talons and feet and struck at the armoured legs again, this time only leaving shining scrapes along its flanks.

Toshio pirouetted and crouched in his machine, batting aside the master’s sword with such force that the man tumbled after it. He followed him, slashing down with his claws at every step. The master crawled out of the way and scrambled to his feet. The sky darkened again. The dirt floor was turning to mud.

The master stepped deftly in a wide arc around the Meka. Toshio struggled to keep the machine facing him. The Blademaster stopped and held his blade up to the sky, and a crackling bolt of lightning hit his blade. He faced Toshio, angling the sword to one side. More bolts of lightning fell from the cloud over the combat, sparking off his blade to hit the Meka. They left dark scorch marks where they hit, and Toshio’s mount staggered. The rain intensified, and Mifune had trouble seeing them through the gloom. He didn’t want to get closer for fear of getting caught up beneath the Meka’s feet.

The two indistinct figures leapt to one side and the other, and Mifune heard the occasional clash of metal as the master’s sword hit the Meka somewhere.

Mifune suppressed a shiver, before he noticed that the heavy rain was slowing. The storm gradually gave way to flurries of snow, pattering all around. The mud was dusted white, although the snow quickly stained with dirt.

The ground rapidly began to freeze, and soon Toshio’s laboured footsteps came to a halt. The Meka pivoted helplessly at the waist, the cockpit canopy covered in frost. Mifune couldn’t see the master anymore.

The Meka suddenly went still. There was a hiss of hydraulics as the bulbous front piece of the torso pulled forward. It rose smoothly upward, revealing Toshio in the cockpit. He was bent forward at the waist, his hands on the controls and a neural receiver helmet attached to his scalp. He was tearing off his connections, pushing himself upright from his pilot couch.

Toshio scrambled out of the cockpit and drew his blade just as Mifune reached him. The two glanced at each other but could not see the Blademaster. The sky began to slowly clear.

As the overhead light penetrated the frosty gloom, Mifune noticed the Blademaster. He was sitting propped against a support timber on one of the verandahs, his head placed neatly in his lap. There was no blood.

Toshio and Mifune shared another look.

‘You must have hit him before you were stuck, brother.’

Toshio’s brow furrowed and he shook his head.

‘I did not. If I had, there would be a lot more damage. The _Peregrine_ ’s claws would tear him in half, but this…’ he indicated the clean cut. ‘You must have used your sword.’

Mifune shook his head.

‘I was not going to interfere when you started your duel. I have that much honour.’ He straitened and sighed. ‘I still have enough honour not to take that head. I did not remove it from his shoulders.’

Toshio stood as well, turning his back on the body.

‘I, too. I know I did not do this, and I shall not take the head.’

He looked around.

‘Hello? Who is there? Who won this duel?’

Silence once more. No answer returned from the shattered buildings.

Toshio turned his attention to the Meka. The frost was rapidly starting to thaw, and soon he would be able to return the machine to the workshop for repairs.

Mifune turned to the groundskeeper and gave him a sad smile.

‘You will be looking for work now, old man.’

The janitor threw his hands up and scoffed.

‘That was not the first master I have served, and he won’t be the last. Now, though, I have much work to do.’ The man bent and started dragging the broken timbers away. Mifune shook his head.

He collected his kimono and left the spectacle behind.

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room.

Toshio looked down, Mifune was fidgeting and Yukito sat unmoving, staring at the wall in front of him. The seconds ticked by.

‘So there will be no sash awarded, is that what I am to believe?’ Lord Sawada paced on the dais, his hands behind his back.

‘The Blademaster is dead, but I am to what, believe your word? Why did you not bring me the head? I demanded to be brought a head, and you have all failed me.’

The silence continued.

‘Answer me!’

‘Lord, I-’ Toshio began, but Mifune interrupted.

‘Father. The man was not killed by either myself or Toshio. We were both there. We refused to claim a kill that we did not make.’

‘I told you to bring me a head, not claim credit for a kill. I-’

There was a wheeze at the door. The three brothers turned to see Gakuto painfully bent at the waist. He carried a box under one arm, and when he stood he offered the box up. Lord Sawada motioned to one of his guards, who stepped forward and retrieved the box.

Lord Sawada pulled the lid off the box and his face lit up. He reached inside and pulled out the head of the Blademaster.

Toshio and Mifune’s jaws dropped. Mifune shot a glare at his injured brother.

‘Lord, I received this box with a note to deliver it to you.’

‘And you have, dear Gakuto. Well done.’ He reached down and plucked one of the two remaining sashes from the tree. He handed it to his guard, who bowed and stepped down from the dais.

‘No, father, it was not me-’

‘Do not be modest, Gakuto. Clearly you have grasped that you need to pay attention to the commands you are given. These two fought the Blademaster, but did not return with the head. You have brought me his head, therefore you have won.’

The guard held the sash up for Gakuto. He stared at it for a long moment.

‘Go on, my son. You deserve it.’

With a pained expression, Gakuto bowed and accepted the sash. He quickly stuffed it into his kimono, his eyes to the floor.

‘Tomorrow I will give you the final test. Be here after your meal in the morning.’

Lord Sawada beamed at them all and walked suddenly from the dais, leaving his sons scrambling to bow as he left the room.

Toshio and Mifune turned on Gakuto, who stood there staring at the floor. Mifune let the insult he was preparing die in his throat as he saw a tear trace down Gakuto’s cheek. Toshio let out a disgusted snort and left the room. Yukito, seemingly in a world of his own, stood and left as well.

Mifune’s face hardened into a glare, and he stalked off to his chambers.

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

He snatched the letter from the hands of his house maid. Opening it, Mifune didn’t even read the content of the death note he had written only hours ago. He jammed the brush into the ink pot and slashed a black line through his hanko stamp.

He frowned and put another line through the writing. Another, another. The paper dripped with black ink. He threw it to the floor.

The maid was scurrying forward to limit the ink stains when he grabbed a bottle of sake and stormed out into the night.

 

*             *             *             *             *


	4. Chapter 4

四番: 澤田幸人

  1. Yukito Sawada



Yukito sat on the low bench, the ladle in one hand as he poured small lashes of water over his head. He scrubbed himself with the sponge carefully, making sure to remove all of the sweat and dirt that had accumulated.

The washroom was deserted. Yukito had dismissed the maids and servant that were on hand as soon as he had arrived in the Sawada house. He preferred the silence.

The water splashed onto the floor, taking the imagined grime with it. The deep tub nearby was empty- with no servants came no bath. Again, Yukito preferred to do without.

He stood, water dripping off his naked body, and began his daily exercises. In the dim cavern he rotated, stretched and reached, his body flowing through slow movements. He emptied his mind as he moved, concentrating on every breath, every motion, every heartbeat.  He kept only one thing in his head.

_Today I am ready to die._

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

The four brothers arrived from their doors and bowed, going through the ritual greeting and offering of swords again. Yukito noticed the patterns, as ever- the absence of ceremonial armour after the first meeting; the positions of the guards, and the stools.

The four brother’s stools had been placed close enough for them to reach over and grasp the hand of the next brother at that first meeting. However, each audience with their father had caused them to be shifted a tiny amount further apart, the gap between steadily growing. Now Yukito suspected that they were far enough apart that even a samurai with sword in hand could not hit the man in the next stool.

He watched his father stand and treat each of his brothers with an adoring smile, which faded by the time it was his turn. He took his seat with a flourish and gestured to the nearly bare wooden tree.

‘My sons, there is but one sash left. You three have each shown courage, skill and determination to win one for yourselves, so it remains for me to announce that the winner of this next sash will be the winner of the whole contest.’

There was a murmur of discontent.

‘It is important that a clan have a good name. I know that you all realise this, but the ultimate show of influence is in who chooses to associate their name to us, not just us to them.’

He paused for a moment. Yukito felt it was just for dramatic effect.

‘The final contest is to have the Lord Heir say our clan’s name in public.’

There was a sharp intake of breath.

‘The Lord Heir, father? Or his shadow?’

‘No, Mifune, the Lord Heir himself. It does not have to be high praise, just get him to mention Sawada clan in public. I will hear word immediately.’ He added a wink for emphasis. Any clan of note had eyes and ears in the Lord Heir’s court.

‘How… soon do you wish this done, Lord?’

‘Gakuto, you may take as long as you like. I am sure that the winner will know what the Lord Heir is referring to, so the person who gets us mentioned first will win.’

The three others shifted uncomfortably on their stools.

‘That is all, my sons. Go, I’m sure you have much thinking to do.’

The four brothers bowed low and stood to leave. Lord Sawada halted Yukito with a gesture, just a moment after the others turned away. He froze and waited.

Once the other brothers had left the room, Lord Sawada motioned for Yukito to sit back down.

‘My son, your performance has been disappointing so far.’

Yukito bowed low. ‘Lord, I apologise. My brothers are clearly superior to me in skill and dedication. Any of them would make fine choices for the new Lord Sawada.’

‘Are you taking this contest seriously, Yukito?’

There was a long pause.

‘Father, I take everything I do seriously.’

‘Just so. I presume you mean your swordsmanship.’

‘Indeed, Father.’

‘I am yet to see this … _famous_ sword technique that you have developed. You will show me before you leave, Yukito.’

‘Of course, my lor-’

‘Where have you been, Yukito?’

‘Lord?’

‘All this time, where have you gone to? My sons should not disappear from view. Where will you go once this contest is over? Will you stay and serve the new Lord Sawada?’

Yukio locked eyes with his father. The man had a wicked, knowing grin playing about his lips. _Does he know?_

‘Father, you ask for a place, I cannot give you one. You ask for a city, a house, a street… no, I cannot. I have travelled to train my sword technique. It is said: a leaf fallen in autumn can either float away or rest and rot. You showed much wisdom in naming me.’

Lord Sawada’s eyes narrowed.

‘I would be _very_ interested in seeing that sword technique.’

Yukito bowed.

‘I shall arrange a demonstration for you, father. After the contest is decided, I will make sure that you can see what I have been training these last years.’

They locked stares for a long moment, neither changing expression. Eventually, Lord Sawada sat back and gave a dismissive gesture.

Yukito bowed and left the room.

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

He liked to wander the gardens. The monks who tended the Sawada estate were truly marvellous at their art, creating expanses of open green lawn that fell into manicured trees and hedges. Walk further and these gave way to a cool, green space with streams, or on the other side of the house an immaculate stone garden, with patterns of polished white pebbles radiating from boulders in the middle.

He could almost remember being a child and leaping from boulder to boulder, trying his hardest not to fall onto the white stones below. It only took one occasion of the monks beating him with a stick to know that he had to jump further next time.

The memory faded from his mind as he reached the end of the path and found himself at the gate to the estate. Outside, two Samurai in powersuits took up position, their weapons sheathed. He nodded to them both and stepped out.

It did not take Yukito long to find what he sought. In a small alcove around another compound, a handful of urchin children sat, staring at him suspiciously. They were most likely the children of servants on one or another estate, poor peasants who lived amongst the rich but did not share in much of the wealth. During the day these children would find ways to amuse themselves, or even earn a little money.

He approached them directly, and a number of them began to back away. He smiled- survival instincts, even here.

Yukito took a knee and pulled out a small box. He opened it and showed the contents to the boys, not saying a word. The smell of sweet mirin from the rice balls made them lick their lips. He had their attention now, and held up a folded letter, sealed with wax.

‘Who here can read?’ There was a pause before one of the boys stepped forward. He was wearing a reasonably clean shirt that was too large for him, but his pants were dirty around his knees, with holes starting to wear through. Yukito held the letter out for him to read the address.

‘You know this person? You know where?’ There was a nod. Yukito smiled and handed him the letter. He placed the box of rice balls down.

‘More when I know it was delivered. Money, too.’

He stepped back and the boys mobbed the box, grabbing the food and eating it immediately. He coughed, and they stopped to look at him.

‘The sooner you deliver it, the more money.’

The boy nodded, and Yukito left. He emerged from the streets and walked back through the gate, nodding respectfully to the two guard samurai there as they bowed to him. He walked down the path, leaving deep footprints as he went.

He continued to wander the gardens until he found a solid stone bench. It was a wonderful day to admire the work of the monks, he decided. He sat and cleared his mind. He sat, enjoying the peace of complete emptiness. He sat, and time passed by.

He was still sitting when one of the house samurai interrupted him. The man was in full armour, Yukito noted.

‘Lord. Lord Sawada requires his sons to attend to him urgently.’

Yukito fixed him with a stare and gave a slow nod. He stood and followed the man into the house, infuriating his hurried step with his own steady pace. The man was practically having fits by the time he arrived at the Lord’s chamber. His father, too, was red with rage, pacing up and down.

His brothers arrived one at a time, taking their place and bowing according to the ritual

‘Just sit down!’ their father roared. They moved quickly, placing their swords down without ceremony and waiting. Yukito’s seat groaned in protest as he sat down. Lord Sawada fixed each of them with a withering stare in turn.

‘ _Someone_ has committed a grave mistake. You know who you are, step forward and explain yourself!’

Nobody moved.

Glaring, Lord Sawada snatched a piece of paper from one of his guards. Yukito noted that they were all in full armour, too. There was nothing ceremonial about their presence now.

‘This report reads… Lord Heir Moya has mentioned that there is sometimes a worm eating at the heart of the apple. This worm has a name: Sawada. Sawada clan is harbouring a heretic.’

There was a collective intake of breath. Yukito cleared his throat, and Lord Sawada’s head whipped around to look at him.

‘So, father, that means we have a winner of the contest?’

There was dead silence for a moment before Lord Sawada exploded in rage.

‘You care about such a thing now? Any clan in Tambu after some glory and with sufficient means will be knocking down our door in no time at all!’

‘You said, father, that the winner of this sash will be the new Lord Sawada. Maybe we should let that winner be known so that they can handle this crisis?’

Lord Sawada’s eyes narrowed and his lips curled back.

‘YOU!’

Yukito stood calmly. He addressed the guards.

‘I am now Lord Sawada. Remove this man.’ He indicated his father with a dismissive wave.

The guards hesitated, looking at each other.

‘Did you not hear me? Take this man into custody. I demand this as head of Clan Sawada.’

One of the guards took a step forward, and Lord Sawada immediately drew his sword.

‘What did you think you were doing, Yukito? You have betrayed me. You have betrayed Sawada. Why? Why would you tear down your own family?’ Yukito sat impassively, saying nothing.

‘Answer me, boy! Did you think you could claim the clan? You would claim nothing but ashes!’

Lord Sawada hopped off the dais and stalked forward, sword in hand. The other brothers backed away from the impending combat. Yukito did not move for a long moment, staring impassively into Lord Sawada’s eyes as the angry man advanced upon him, sword levelled. When he was nearly within striking distance, Yukito stood.

‘Keiji Sawada. You are a heretic and will be killed. This is the will of The Way. I am the sword of the Forbidden Island.’

He waved a hand, and where Yukito had stood a moment ago, there was now a bulky suit of armour. Not as large as a Meka, the armoured figure nonetheless towered over all those present. It was a bright scarlet and white, with layers of armour mimicking the powersuits of the other samurai. Behind the thickly armoured shoulders, a pair of additional arms sprouted, moving with quiet murmurs of hydraulics. The head, clad in a ceremonial helmet with a crescent brow, looked down on Lord Sawada silently.

Keiji Sawada took a couple of steps back and held his sword up at the monster. As he did, his face grew darker and redder. The other brothers looked at him with horror as their father turned scarlet like a demon. A bruise formed on top of his head below the receding hairline, dark purple and blue. The bruise looked like a circle, with a wavy line like a candle flame or wisp of smoke falling through the centre of it. The armoured figure spoke again, deep and booming.

‘See the devil that lives within this husk. This is the spawn of Semai, Lord of Spite. He would set brother against brother in fruitless quests for temporal power.’

The hulking warrior moved then, sure as a cat and whisper quiet. It drew two long katana and spun forward, beheading the surprised Keiji Sawada with a single stroke. Dark black blood oozed from the wound rather than the bright red fountain that might be expected.

The three other brothers looked at each other and at their dead father. After a moment, Toshio spoke with a trembling voice.

‘Who… who are you?’

The armoured figure reached up and removed its helmet.

‘It is still me, brothers. I have been away perfecting my sword technique.’

‘On… on the …Forbidden Island? You are really a Demon Hunter?’

Yukito nodded sagely.

‘I apologise for using my Ki to hide my true nature, but I am sure you see now the necessity.’

He was about to say more when the distant cracks of gunfire filtered through the house. The guards tensed up.

Yukito replaced his helmet and swords, snatching up Lord Sawada’s head and body. His mechanical arms reached for and drew a pair of shotguns from behind his back. He turned to his brothers once more.

‘Come.’

Yukito strode from the room, throwing open the doors. He marched to the gate and flung that open as well.

Beside the gate, one of the Samurai was lying on the ground with blood leaking from his armour, while the other was hard against the stone gate posts, exchanging fire with assailants from further up the road.

Yukito marched into the middle of the road. There was a pause in the fire, although a couple of rounds kicked up dirt around his feet. He continued up the road, walking amongst the enemy.

A trio of the attacking Samurai drew swords and charged at him, screaming a battle cry. Yukito waved at them, and a wailing blast of wind sending them tumbling into a nearby wall. He threw down the body and held aloft the head of his father.

‘YOU WILL HALT!’

The fire ceased. A few heads emerged from cover, trying to figure out who this was. A single Samurai marched down the street towards him, cutting a smaller but still imposing figure in a full Kote powersuit. The man halted in front of them, his right hand already resting on his sword. He spoke from behind a black oni-mask.

‘I am Jishei Tanada. I will take this heretic’s head, and burn his body. Who are you?’

Yukito tossed the severed head to the man, who fumbled and caught it, turning it over to look at the face. He also picked up the lifeless body and threw that forward as well. It kicked up dirt as it sprawled at Tanada’s feet.

‘I am Sleepwalker. You can see my armour, you know _what_ I am.’ He gestured to the head that Jishei now held. ‘There is your heretic. You have his head, and you may do what you like with his body.’

Jishei turned and handed the head to an attendant at his side. His hand fell back onto the hilt of his sword.

‘Now for the clan. We will burn down this estate as punishment for harbouring such a demon. None shall live! Join us, Demon Hunter! To Glory!’

He held his fist aloft, and around the street samurai returned the gesture with a war cry. Yukito levelled his shotguns at the man’s face and the gesture abruptly died.

‘What perfidy is this?’ He demanded.

‘No perfidy, Tanada,’ said Yukito, calmly, ‘this ends here. This man was the only heretic- I have completed my investigation. Any further attacks will be an act of war against Sawada. You will go no further, or I will take your head.’

The Tanada hatamoto looked around at his assembled warriors and back at Yukito.

‘What of the Lord Heir’s demand?’

‘The Lord Heir wanted all trace of corruption rooted out. I assure you that it has been. This one sought to corrupt more of the family, but he failed.’ Yukito gestured behind him, to his three brothers at the gate.

‘Here are the famous Four Brothers. They have resisted the corruption, and are to be commended for that. They are heroes for halting it this soon.’

‘I can only count three brothers, Honoured Demon Hunter.’

Yukito turned back to the hatamoto and removed his own helmet. His robotic arms re-holstered his shotguns.

‘Yes, four brothers. You are familiar with The Way, I have no doubt. All things must balance. This devil here,’ he indicated the lifeless body, ‘was the price paid to bring me into being. A being of light to cleanse the darkness requires a darkness to cleanse.’

There was a long silence. The Tanada man removed his own helmet and looked at Yukito with a furrowed brow.

‘What shall I tell the Lord Heir?’

‘Tell him that the corruption is rooted out. Tell him that the Dark Apostle Semai was at work here, setting one righteous soul against another, and he has been thwarted. You managed to limit the damage by not killing the innocent, as Semai would have preferred. Tell him that the warriors of the Forbidden Isle confirm no taint is left.’

The samurai nodded and bowed.

‘Tell him,’ Yukito looked back at the others, ‘tell him that the price of security is eternal vigilance.’

Yukito bowed to the samurai and turned back to the Sawada estate. He waved for his brothers to follow him.

 

*             *             *             *             *

 

The four of them were seated in a tight circle in the training room. They looked a little absurd, with three of them in house kimonos and Yukito in his hulking armour, all sitting cross-legged like they did when eating, as children.

‘Is now a good time to commit Seppuku?’ Mifune’s voice broke the silence.

Yukito shook his head. ‘Having us killed over this is what they wanted. It is more honourable to resist the darkness than to give in to it.’

There was another long pause as they sat, reflecting on what had happened.

‘So, who shall be the new Lord of Sawada?’ Toshio posed the question, but there was little enthusiasm in his voice. Now that their father was no longer pitting them against each other, the brothers had fallen back into their usual camaraderie. The events of the past few days, however, could not be ignored.

‘You _all_ will be.’ The other three looked at Yukito, who pulled a small pouch from his belt, emptying a small pile of sand from it onto the floor. His four arms rapidly smoothed the sand into a perfectly round disc, and then divided it into three equal arcs.

‘There will be a Lord Sawada of Martial prowess, and glory,’ he said, one finger scribing the characters in the sand, ‘a Lord Sawada of business acumen and administration, and a Lord Sawada of the public, a lord to tell our tale.’

They looked at the sand for a moment. Mifune’s hand reached forward and smoothed the pile, making a less precise circle and dividing it differently.

‘No, brother, you forget, there is a fourth Lord Sawada: lord of honour, of purity, and of brotherhood.’

They each reached out a hand to place on Yukito. He reached a hand back to place on each of their shoulders.

‘Thankyou, brother,’ said Gakuto, ‘we would have been lost to the dark if not for you.’

Yukito shook his head.

‘I would have nothing to save here if not for you, my brothers. You are righteous men.’

They took their hands back and stood. Yukito towered over them.

‘We will have much to talk about in future. For now, though…’

He waved his hand and took on the appearance of a simple ronin.

‘I have more work to do.’

He bowed to his brothers and left.

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of a series of stories developed for Cartel Tactical Centre, a fan-produced e-zine for Mutant Chronicles/Warzone.
> 
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